


Dirty Liar

by Miniatures



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-11 23:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3336119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miniatures/pseuds/Miniatures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam tells the truth, but Gabriel still doesn't believe him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Liar

It began innocently enough, Sam would later claim… and wasn’t that a metric ton of crap. He was certain that there was nothing further from innocent than telling the Messenger of God that you’d quite like to fuck him into a mattress. In his defense, he had a truth serum curse and years of tension to blame—if it weren’t for them, he never would’ve said a thing.

Gabriel blinked at him. The archangel was frozen mid-gesture: grand arcing sweeps of both arms, mouth open and hollowed of his last taunt. _Like you could resist such a gorgeous hunk of angel, Sam. I know—_

And then it had all come tumbling out. Because yes, Sam _could_ resist Gabriel, and yes, he’d been actively resisting him since they’d met.

Slowly, Gabriel lowered his arms. Closed his mouth. Blinked again. Cleared his throat and said, “What.”

Sam took a breath, hunched his shoulders like a nervous child. “I’m cursed,” he said. “S’making me babble, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m—”

“What did you just say?”

Gabriel’s eyes were narrowed, his head cocked to one side. He was watching Sam as if he were some freakish natural curiosity and Sam suddenly felt like he was being dissected.

“I want you,” he said, the words slipping off his tongue before he could swallow them down. “I’ve been attracted to you for a long time and it’s only gotten worse since you came back and I keep thinking about fucking you and I think I’d like to. Fuck you, I mean. And I don’t know what it is about you, it makes me angry sometimes that I care about you so much, because you’re _you_ and you have no right, no right at all…”

He trailed off and dropped his gaze to his feet. He was going to be sick, and he could feel Gabriel _looking_ at him.

“You’re cursed?” the archangel said finally.

Sam nodded. “To tell the truth.”

“… Oh! Well, then.”

“Yeah.”

The silence stretched thick and heavy until it was punctured by the feathered crinkle of air that signaled Gabriel’s departure. Sam sighed. _Way to go, Winchester._

—

They broke the curse when they killed the witch that had cast it. There had been blood involved, and bone and skin and hair. Somehow the caster—a local yokel named Ashley Braithe, who Dean remembered seeing at the pharmacy when they’d first rolled into town—had gotten her hands on Sam’s.  He wasn’t going to dwell too much on the motives of such a feat. The woman had killed a twelve-year-old, and at that point the whys and hows stopped being so important.

The point was: Sam could lie again.

The point was: when Gabriel returned to the bunker and asked him whether or not he was still cursed to tell the truth, Sam said yes.

He wasn’t afraid of Gabriel combing his mind to suss out the veracity of his claim. The archangel had promised to toe the line of consent after he found out about Sam’s time in the Pit, and Sam believed he’d meant it.

“So,” Gabriel said, “no leads on breaking it, then? The curse.”

“Uh, no. We thought killing that witch would do something, but it hasn’t worked yet. Now we’re thinking she may have had accomplices.”

“Ooh, good old fashioned witch hunt!” Gabriel clapped his hands together and grinned. “Last time I was on one of those, I was the witch. Pulled the ol’ switcheroo and left the prosecutors tied to the stake—oh, lemme tell you, Sammy, they were _pissed…”_

Sam cocked a brow. “Why am I not surprised?”

“C’mon, Sam.” Gabriel was behind him then, one hand on his shoulder and the other waving at the air before them. “Just picture it. Them: some crusty old dudes in robes, massacring innocent midwives. Me: archangel in disguise, creamy bosoms straining against my peasant frock—”

“Creamy _bosoms?”_

“Trickster, Sam. Shapeshifting and gender fluidity comes part and parcel. Did you know I have children? That I _gave birth to?”_

Sam’s mouth twitched. “Right, Loki, I remember. I believe one of your kids goes by Octohorse?”

“His name is _Sleipnir,_ and he grew up to be _very successful_ , thank you very much.”

Sam laughed. Gabriel smiled up at him, cheeks dimpling, eyes alight with triumphant glee and oh, fuck him anyway.

The archangel hopped a foot away, taking his hands with him and beginning to pace the room. “But we’ve got a curse to break,” he said. “Can’t have you spewing your deep, dark, shameful secrets all over the place. That’s how wars start, Sammoose. I should know—I’ve started three.”

He snapped his fingers, and all of a sudden the control room table was surrounded by plush armchairs. Gabriel shrugged off his jacket and draped himself across one and stretched until his vessel’s back popped, letting out a long, low moan. Sam tried very hard not to feel anything at the sight of the archangel in a tight black long-sleeved tee, relaxed and cocky and oh so very _Gabriel._

“So.” Gabriel was examining his fingernails now. Blew on them, and they grew shapely and manicured. “Any clue where these witchy _accomplices_ might be hiding?”

“We’re looking,” Sam said, unable to tear his eyes away from the supine angel. “Nothing yet.”

“We-e-ell, I’d help you look, but I don’t feel like it. I’m a bit of a dick that way.”

“I didn’t ask you to—”

“I think it all started with my father,” Gabriel said thoughtfully, and the armchair was suddenly a stereotypical therapist’s sofa. “Y’know, God. It’s hard growing up in a single parent home, knowing that your father’s most likely going to outlive you. That’s the kind of thing that fucks you up. Of course, _outlive_ is a strong word—we get an eternity, Daddy Dearest gets two. Ever think about that, Sam? You could live to be a hundred and it’d _still_ be like a blink of an eye to me. Kinda makes you feel insignificant, don’t it?”

“Gabriel—”

“But enough about me!” The archangel leapt to his feet and stalked over to Sam, amber eyes wild. “You know all about me, don’t you? You know all about Sodom and Gomorrah, Jesus and Lucifer and Kali and that time I got Baldur killed just for the _fun_ of it…” He poked Sam in the middle of the chest. Hard. “And oh, I _know_ you know all the things I did to _you_. You haven’t forgotten, have you, Sam?”

Sam shook his head, said in a small voice, “No.”

“Then _how,”_ Gabriel let out a manic laugh and poked him again, “how the _fuck_ can you look me in the eye and say that you want me?”

Sam was vaguely aware of his mouth falling open. Gabriel’s lip curled, and he lowered his hand.

“You don’t want me,” Gabriel continued. “You want _this,”_ he gestured to his body, “though only Dad knows why. You’re attracted to a _vessel,_ Sam, a fucking husk. And maybe I cracked a few jokes that got you laughing, maybe I charmed you some. But you don’t know me, you can’t fathom all that I am and all that I’ve done—and don’t say you do, because even if you think you’re telling the truth, you’re wrong.”

He took a step back, and Sam realized with a curious ache in his chest that something in Gabriel’s expression had cracked and the archangel’s eyes looked impossibly sad.

“You said,” Gabriel murmured, “you were angry with yourself for wanting me. Try to remember that.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head vehemently. “No. No, I didn’t say that.”

“Sam—”

Sam caught Gabriel by the shoulders, rubbed his thumbs in slow circles against him and felt the give of his borrowed flesh beneath his shirt. “I didn’t say I was angry at myself for wanting you,” Sam repeated, voice catching. “I said I was angry at myself for _caring about_ _you_.”

Gabriel sucked a shaking, startled breath, and that was really saying something considering the fact that he didn’t need to breathe.

“I know exactly what you are,” Sam said. “I know exactly what you’ve done. Not all of it, no, but enough to get a pretty solid picture. You’re petty and cruel and all kinds of fucked up and it kills me a little how much I love—being with you.”

The archangel gaped at him, and his mouth looked so impossibly soft all parted like that. Sam’s fingers twitched with the urge to settle between those lips, spread them gentle and let Gabriel suck… but he kept his hand still.

Then Gabriel laughed. Laughed and stepped back, out of Sam’s grip, leaving his hands hovering empty in the air.

“You caught yourself,” he grinned. “You caught yourself, you damn, dirty _liar._ When’d you break the curse? Or was this a trick the whole time?”

Guilt settled stony in Sam’s gut as he lowered his hands to his sides. _Fuck._

“Ah, I’ve taught you well, Sammy,” Gabriel pointed at him, giggling. Amber glittering between the creases around his eyes. “You nearly got me there! Damn, kiddo, you should’a been an actor.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah you were.” There was a stillness to his voice, flat and brittle despite the smile on his face. _If I can laugh it away it can’t hurt me anymore._

Sam opened and closed his fists, stared despairing after Gabriel. And Gabriel stared back, all softness and sharpness and frostbitten gold.

Sam made his decision.

He folded the space between them and caught the archangel’s mouth in a rough kiss.

Gabriel was stiff, and then he was clay, and then his hands were in Sam’s hair. Sam dug his fingers into Gabriel’s sides and pulled him flush against his body ‘til together they stood in a single, solid line of heat. Gabriel moaned into the kiss and Sam was alive with it, with the power of making this vast being whimper. The archangel’s mouth was impossible and dear God in Heaven Sam was drowning in him.

Eventually, miserably, Sam had to break for air. He rested his forehead against Gabriel’s, breathing shaky and deep. “I,” he panted, “am a _terrible_ liar, Gabe.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I found the first line of this typed in a note on my phone this morning, and hijinks ensued. I still have no idea when or why I wrote it down, but I'm glad I did, 'cause I kinda really like this one!


End file.
